Cup of Wine
by real-circus
Summary: Of a tranquil summer's midday, good wine, and memories. inspired from Episode 38: Fleeting Vision...i think; it's the one on drinking wine.


**A/N: **Oh… please bear with me and I'll continue with Baby Blues^^;; I'm getting so many requests for it to be continued… I'm so very glad, but my schedule is tight and I don't think it'll come out very soon… anyways, it will come out nonetheless. Well… another fic—this one's quite different from the rest, I think. I wrote this when I was thinking of that touching episode where Komyo comes in (that episode on Koryu and his master promising him that he'd drink with him once he's all grown up)… 

This is set right before Sanzo hears a voice calling to him…… Enjoy^^

**Cup of Wine **_by real-circus_

_"Maybe I'm a dreamer_

_But I just believe_

_And I know what I see."_

_-Delta Goodrem_

He sits by the small table at the porch, clasping a cup of wine, the size of his palm. The silence of the summer seems to befit his mood, and he is drowned in flooding memories once again. Pale pink petals flutter softly above the lawns of verdure before him, floating with the wind, away, and away, and away…

He looks up briefly, as though expecting to see someone at the other end of the table… but he always drank alone. He shook off the coming thought and took another sip from the small cup. Looking down at it, he sees the thin hair-line cracks that spoilt the pattern, and the chips and rough edges that bore into the brim of the porcelain. Never managing to see the beauty of the bamboo pattern that was painted onto the fragile thing, he only saw the defects. Perhaps it was the same for everything else… like people, for example. 

After all, the only thing his heart saw were the four grey walls around it day in and day out. It has never opened. At least, not since that night. Perhaps it had seen beauty and splendor once; perhaps it had even loved once, no one knew. No one ever _managed_ to know. No one would take a chance. No one even _bothered_. 

He sets the cup down on the polished wood. The dry stains of previous similar cups tainted the surface. The wine swirls as he does that, creating ripples that break his reflection. When it finally calms down, a young man appears, his image smooth on the façade. It is often deemed good-looking in a sexy, somewhat rowdy manner, but he never cared about that. Using his looks as an advantage was not a habit, or an option. 

Nothing much mattered, since the moment he found his beloved master sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. He dared not look at his face, fearful that he might be scarred for ever more. He blames himself for the death, the ignorance, and blames love for the cause of his hurt. And when one begins to shun himself from the world and wears a mask that covers the true emotions, it pastes itself, permanently, upon the original beauty that is the visage, and thoughts of discontentment drill themselves in his head to form a lasting impression…

Much like the wine he drinks now, those painful memories were bitter, at first taste, and ran a scalding path down his acidic throat; but when he got used to the heartache, it was easier to swallow down, and could be, sometimes, even enjoyable. 

_When the mind is young, the wine blights it… and similarly, when the body is young, wine blights it too… _That was what someone said to him before, someone he swore not to bring back to memory ever again. The name rang at the back of his head, but he ignored that. He never wants to think of that again. Even the face of that person is faded in his mind's eye already, and the voice that rocked him to sleep during stormy nights begins to die away, too. 

Yes… that was the right thing to do. Forget about his face, his voice, his everything. Then, there it was; a voice, faint but clear, coming from the distance. 

He had been waiting for it, to some extent. It was expected to come sooner or later. Someone he once knew told him that he'd hear it too, one day. Only that he couldn't seem to remember who it was.

~End

**A/n: **Firstly, I'm not sure about that quote from Komyo Sanzo. I'm sure it's quite wrong. Secondly, I bet Sanzo never forgot about Komyo, but this is my fic, and I can twist stories around, can't I? And lastly, sorry about the weird use of language ^^;; I'm vaguely aware of the wrong usage of tenses and stuff… and it's on purpose-_- 


End file.
